Never Forgotten
by kepulver
Summary: Sev/Scorch; takes place after the events in the RepCom game/Order 66 novel by K. Traviss -- contains spoilers for both. Scorch welcomes Sev home. Technically, consensual incest clone/clone . A mild M, angst.


**Never Forgotten:**

His return was typical Sev. He simply walked into Delta's quarters like he'd just nipped off to the 'freshers rather than been lost, missing-presumed-dead on Kashyyyk. Didn't say a single word, not their Sev, just headed for the empty bunk and set down his kit.

"Sev? _Vod_? Is that _really _you?" Fixer said it and Scorch was ever so glad that he hadn't been the one to spout off a cliché like that.

Sev looked at them all with his typical psycho glare, the one that said he was the only sane person in the room. "Who else would I be? Chancellor Palpatine?"

"Emperor Palpatine, now. Though it would explain why we never saw the two of you together." Boss's sarcasm was as sharp as a vibroblade. "Welcome back, Sev'ika. Good to see you."

Sev grunted, looking at last to Scorch. "Good to be back."

"Would have thought you'd have met a nice Wookie girl by now." Scorch's mouth was dry as a Tatooine midday as he tried to banter. His voice sounded too high, too bright, too brittle in his own ears. For once, he _wanted_ to be serious, but if he was maybe he'd say something else. Something that shouldn't be said out loud. "Or maybe a Trandoshan. No, no, a Wookie, definitely a Wookie. One with three or four kids who'd call you Sev'buir or however you'd say Sev'buir in Shyriiwook -- probably would sound like Fixer when he gargles. Hey! Did you bring us back bowcasters? Because those would be em_kandosii'la_ kit, dont'cha think?"

"Sorry, didn't have the chance to check the shops." Sev shrugged. "Vau was rather insistent that we bug out fast."

"Oh, well, he would be -- not exactly Master Patient, our Vau" Scorch shook his head with cheerful sympathy. "Now, Skirata, he'd likely have adopted you, your Wookie wife and kiddies and the shopkeeper on the way off world." _Or not let us leave you in the first place. _ The rebellious thought wanted out, but Scorch snapped his mouth shut to trap it in.

Sev shrugged again. "Skirata's soft like that. Sentimental." The last word was said the way another man, a mongrel-born civilian -- might have said 'stupid' or 'weak.'

Scorch opened his mouth to tease and maybe to argue but this time, nothing came out. He stood open-mouthed and stared at Sev, watching as his brother set about the routine of unpacking his gear and making sure that everything was in working order and in its proper place. It was nothing remarkable; they'd all been trained to do it from childhood; it was all as natural to them as breathing or eating.

But seeing Sev, here, now, alive and whole and carefully counting that yes, he did have five days' rations and that his refresher kit had a razor and five days' soap tabs and a fresh can of tooth powder made Scorch want to memorize each movement. Because his brother had been gone and now he was back and Scorch would not take a second of this time for granted.

"Did I grow a second head?" Sev growled, looking back over his shoulder. "Or perhaps a tail?"

"N-No." Scorch looked to Boss and Fixer for support, but they were oddly gone. "Sev, I-we-I thought you were _dead!_ We-I heard you scream and -- and they made us leave, they wouldn't let us come back for you but we wanted to! We all wanted to, _I wanted to!"_

The last words came out as a wail and Scorch looked to the ground, disgusted with himself, with his weakness. If Vau had heard that -- even now, even after all that had happened -- he'd have beaten Scorch bloody for such a mewling display.

"What happened, happened." Scorch looked up to see Sev looking down at his pack, buckling it closed. "The operation had to come first; you know that. You had your orders and the objective was more important than one man, even me. Did you think I wouldn't understand that?"

"Omega would have..."

"We are _not_ Omega." Sev rarely ever raised his voice and he didn't now. Instead, he left his pack on his bunk and strode over, getting into Scorch's face, each footstep punctuating a word. "We are _not_ Skirata's little Mando'ade wannabes. We are Delta, trained by the best to be the best and we follow orders! We do the job and we don't cry about it when it gets too hard."

Scorch stared into Sev's face. Outsiders, civilians, Jedi, non-clones thought they all looked alike, that the differences were superficial. What they didn't understand was how those superficial marks -- the scars, the nicks, the marks of sun and wind and battle made a brother unique. Scorch would have known Sev's face anywhere in the galaxy.

It was hard to say who was more surprised by the hug, Sev or Scorch himself. Delta were not huggers - none of Vau's boys were. Even as Scorch clung to Sev, holding him hard enough to make his own arms ache, the gesture felt odd. Not wrong, but weird verging on uncomfortable, but he'd kill anyone who tried to make him stop.

Sev didn't struggle, though Scorch knew he could easily have broken the hug. And then proceeded to break any of Scorch's limbs of his choosing.

Scorch started talking, trying to explain, to find the words to make it all right. "_Ni ceta, _Sev'ika!" It was the most groveling apology in Mando'a, it implied begging on your knees for forgiveness, for mercy. "I'm so damned _sorry!_ I tried to come back, I swear I did and I don't care if it's weak or stupid or if you or Vau or the Emperor himself whips the skin off me for it! I tried to come back, I begged to come back! We all wanted to but especially me because, because..."

Sev's kiss shut off the flow of words and then, then Scorch knew that this was just another dream. Because Sev had _never_ kissed him, would never kiss him. Nor he Sev. They'd tried it on for size a few times but it had never felt right. Not just weird, but silly. And their noses always got in the way.

Scorch fought to stay in the dream, as hard as he'd fought to go back for Sev. He wanted to stay, to hold on to the smell and feel and taste of his brother-trooper for as long as he could. Because the memories were going to fade, he knew it. He'd seen it in other squads, pieced back together. Eventually, no matter how much you tried to hold on, the memories faded, the pain eased and your brother -- for all your intentions otherwise -- died again.

The dream flickered and the two of them were on the nearest bunk, bare to the waists, their fatigue pants open at the fly. They were side-by-side, just enough space between them to allow for stroking room. Their hands moved with long-practiced ease, touching all the right places, falling into the old rhythm.. It was what it always was: fast, desperate, rough and clumsy. It was what it always was: comforting, familiar, warm and as close as they could come to loving.

"_Ni ceta_," Scorch moaned the words into Sev's ear, babbling as his release grew near. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't forget, I won't let them make me forget! Never!"

The dream flickered again and Scorch remained in it, laying on his side, precariously balanced on the edge of the bunk as he teased Sev, asking after his Wookie wife and kids until Sev dumped him out of the bunk. Just like old times.

X X X

In the waking world, Boss woke to the sound of a moan and a sigh. He raised up on an elbow, looking over at his brother, seeing a faint smile flicker over Scorch's sleeping face. It didn't take a Jedi to guess what Scorch had been dreaming about.

"Love him once for me,_ vod'ika_," Boss murmured, before rolling over and falling back to sleep.


End file.
